


Ritual

by sivathomega



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel)
Genre: Age Not Specified, Blood, Blood Drinking, Church Sex, Churches & Cathedrals, Clergymen, Decapitation, Ejaculate, Gang Rape, Gender Not Specified, Hurt/Comfort, Knives, Lots of Cum, Memory Loss, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Other, POV Second Person, Painful Sex, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rescue, Ritual Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:31:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10100924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sivathomega/pseuds/sivathomega
Summary: Reader's gender, body type and age are intentionally left unspecified; feel free to come up with whatever suits you best.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Reader's gender, body type and age are intentionally left unspecified; feel free to come up with whatever suits you best.

You wake up shivering on a hard, cold surface, dizzy and nauseous, the taste of red wine lingering in your mouth.

You begin to comprehend your surroundings. You are laid out on a table, your body completely bare against the cold slab. A room lit with torches. A basement—a church basement, you think—and standing around you in a circle, men you do not know. Older, much older, wearing strange clothes. Vestments of some kind, of a sect you're not familiar with. You don't remember how you got there.

They are speaking to each other, but you don't understand their words. There is a rustling, and the air grows thick with a certain tension; then they advance.

Two of them hold down your legs with their rough, cold hands; another two restrain your arms. Nearby, one of the men stands holding a candelabra in one hand, a large book open in the other. He begins reciting something you don't recognize.

Then a man's face appears above you. He is standing right next to your head, leering down. You are about to turn your head to look away, and then you see it—his bare, hard cock, grasped in his hand, just inches away from you.

 _No. No. No. Not again. No_. Your heart begins to beat rapidly. You try to get away, but the men have you pinned down. The one beside your head starts stroking his cock. His breathing is heavy.

Then he forces it into your mouth.

A high-pitched sound starts droning in your mind, like a whine or a pained cry, endless, blocking out their words, their incantations. His hard length presses into your throat, making you gag, making your mouth ache as it stretches to accommodate him. Then he moans roughly, like an animal, and hot cum fills your mouth.

He pulls out. You cough and splutter but barely have time to catch your breath before a new cock is thrust inside. Another hovers in your peripheral vision. Another is being rubbed on your bare stomach. The men are grunting and breathing loudly.

You feel another load of cum shoot into your throat; even more of it splatters on your face, hot and thick. Then more, and more, you can't even count how many. Again and again their cocks slam into your throat and smack against your flesh. Your eyes are stinging, welling up with tears that run down your face and mix with their cum. Your chest and stomach are slick with it.

Then, finally, they withdraw. The only sound is your ragged breath and wet coughing. The pained whimpering in your head subsides; the room comes into focus.

There is a moment of stillness. Then your legs are forced apart.

_No. No. No. no. no. no . no no—_

The words escape you. "No! N-no, n—"

You are silenced by a rag being stuffed forcefully into your mouth. Your vision dims. Bile rises up in your throat.

Then a sudden, searing pain shoots through you. You look down. The man who had been holding the book and candelabra is standing between your legs. He is inside you.

He pulls his out, then thrusts in again. Adrenaline begins to dull the pain, but you can still feel yourself being ripped into like fabric; you can still feel, with each thrust, a sensation like a knot being torn apart, like a fleshy fruit being smashed to a pulp. The other men have resumed chanting. You can't look away from his face. He is shutting his eyes, gritting his teeth, sweating. You know what is next—it's going to happen again, but this time, this time—

But instead, there is a flash of silver. A silent crimson burst. And then, as if in slow motion, the man's head separates from his neck. You feel his cock slide out of you as his body falls heavily to the ground.

The other men release you from their grasp and step backward. There is a collective swell of frightened, angry voices. A tall, dark figure is moving quickly amongst them, and one by one their cries are cut short as they fall to the floor—blood spurting from their necks, erupting from their mouths, seeping through their vestments in dark, brilliant pools.

Then all is quiet, and still. The room has darkened somewhat; a few of the torches were snuffed out in the commotion.

You want to move, but your body is weak. You feel as though you will surely die now. Or if this was a dream, you will wake up from it—but it does not feel like a dream.

The figure moves to your side. You see now that he is a man—much older, but how old exactly, you cannot tell; his tan skin is smooth, and he shows no clear sign of age. He towers above you, blood splattered across his clothing—a plain black shirt with a high collar; a dark overcoat. A large gold cross pendant glitters on his chest. You are transfixed by his sharp features, his dark eyes, the thick brown hair that falls to his shoulders.

He is looking down at you with a grave expression, casting his gaze over your body. Somehow, you begin to feel calm. Your fear dissipates.

He removes the gag from your mouth and lets it fall to the floor. Then he speaks.

"What you have done here is punishable by death," he says. His voice is deep, smooth, resonant. "I have, accordingly, slain your companions. Does this not trouble you?"

You don't answer; you can't form the words in your mind.

He smirks. You see a certain joy light up in his eyes; a keen delight.

"No, you are relieved at their misfortune," he says. "You were afraid—but no longer. Even as I come to claim your life."

He runs a long finger down your body, trailing it through cum and blood, stopping just below your navel. He opens his hand, pressing his palm to your skin, his fingers reaching to the edge of your hip.

The warmth and gentle weight summons a feeling of ease inside you. You notice there is a large, circular red mark on the back of his hand, like a tattoo. It seems to glow and shimmer in the dim light.

"I see," he murmurs. "I see why you welcome my presence."

He runs his fingers back up to your neck, letting them brush lightly over your bruises. He gently strokes your hair for a moment before withdrawing his hand.

He raises a fist to reveal three long, slender knives with short red hilts, clenched deftly between his knuckles. They are streaked with blood.

Then, keeping his sharp gaze locked with yours, he opens his mouth and runs his tongue along the length of each blade. He moves slowly, carefully lapping up each drop of blood. Your pulse quickens. Your vision is clear now, your head light.

He smiles slightly, his mouth stained a deep red. Then he bends down as if to kiss you, but his lips do not touch yours; they hover just out of reach.

He parts his lips and lets the blood drip into your waiting mouth. Its thickness coats your tongue and pours down into your throat. It is salty and metallic, yet somehow clean—washing away any sour taste or sensation that lingered there before.

He stays there for a few seconds, letting the last of it trickle inside you. Then he straightens back up.

"Where have you come from?" he says.

You swallow and lick any stray drops of blood from your lips.

"I—I don't..."

You pause and avert your eyes.

"... I don't want to go back there."

He smiles.

"Good," he says. "Come."

He slips the knives inside his coat. Then he bends down and gathers your naked body in his arms. He lifts you easily, holding you to his chest, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

You sigh, and your eyelids flutter shut as he carries you away. You don't know where, but you know it's somewhere else. It's enough.


End file.
